by Phoebe Conn
“Really?” Santos replied, apparently unconcerned. “While I resemble my father, most women could easily tell us apart. A DNA test will disprove her claim. I’ll have my attorney arrange for it.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Run a test if you like, but I’ll insist upon a second one. Good night.”
The attorney left the room at a brisk clip with Mrs. Lopez hurrying along behind him. Libby hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath and exhaled slowly. “You are amazing,” she whispered.
He pushed his plate away. “I thought I knew what was coming, although naming me the father of the baby was a surprise. Thank you for not mentioning Rigoberto Avila. I didn’t want to give Ramirez the opportunity to blame everything on him.”
Libby had lost her appetite too. She curled her napkin in her lap. “Do you actually intend to raise Miguel Angel?”
He rolled his eyes. “What do you think?”
“You have such a convincing manner, I think Ramirez believed you. The point is whether or not Victoria believes you.”
“She must have thought I’d be easier to deal with than a dead man. She’s wrong. I’d never seen her before the day Patricia met her on the beach. You know I’m careful. I don’t intend to father any children, ever.”
Libby pulled her lower lip through her teeth. She knew his stance on the matter, but it still saddened her. “I’ve always wanted a family.”
“I’ve done the family bit, over and over. I’m not repeating my father’s mistakes.”
“You’re not your father, Santos. You’re a different man.”
“Not really. Think of the ego it takes to strut into a bullring. Matadors are not good husband-and-father material.”
“I’m not interested in statistics. We’re talking about you. You’ve created your own family with Maggie, the twins and Fox. They all regard you as a wonderful brother.”
He finished his wine. “That’s some sort of success, I suppose, but women I meet aren’t looking for great brothers.”
“I was, but that swiftly went off the track, didn’t it? You’re the one who matters, Santos. If you want a loving family, you’ll have one.”
He looked away, obviously unconvinced. “Let’s talk about something else.”
She was leaving in August, and there was no point in extolling the virtues of a happy family when she wouldn’t be there to create one with him. That would be lunacy. She had a backup plan and went with what they did have. She leaned close to whisper, “All right. Let’s talk about sex. Why don’t we make love again in the closet with your fancy suits? Maybe it’s only the way your cologne lingers in the air, or the delicious darkness, or—”
He laughed and laced his fingers in hers. “Stop. Tomas has made a special dessert. Let’s have it first.”
Libby licked her lips. “I hope it’s something with whipped cream.”
“I don’t care what it is. I’ll ask him to top it with whipped cream just to see you lick it off your lips.”
“You can imagine it in the dark.”
Julian came in to clear the table, and Santos nodded to thank him. “This table is one of my favorites.”
That memory made Libby feel warm all over, and when Julian reappeared with baked apples topped with berries and whipped cream, she grinned through the first bite. “I swear I’ve fallen into paradise.”
Santos laughed and winked. When they finished, he asked Julian to help him up the back stairs. Libby used the main staircase and met him in the hallway. She waved her long skirt with a dancer’s graceful flourish.
“I like dressing for dinner. At home, we came to the table in whatever we’d put on that morning.”
Santos looked down at his navy blue shorts and white dress shirt. “I’m sorry I can’t do better than this. We used to have much higher standards.”
She slid her arms around his waist and kissed him. “Your present standards work fine for me.”
“It’s nice you’re so easy to please.”
She laughed and didn’t remind him he’d had another opinion of her that afternoon when she’d pulled Victoria from the sea. She waited for him to bring the key to unlock the closet, walked in and turned to face him. When he closed the door without turning on the light, she had to push his suits back along the poles in the dark. He propped his crutches against the wall and leaned back on the door to remain steady.
“Let me undress you,” he murmured, and his voice sounded even deeper in the small room.
She unbuttoned his shirt. “Where do you want to begin?”
He reached under her long skirt to peel off her bikinis. “What color are these?”
“A bright orange, a shocking color that’s unfortunately unappreciated.”
He slipped her panties into his pocket. “I’d appreciate any color on you.”
“Isn’t it more like off me?” She helped him out of his shirt and tossed it over her shoulder.
He pulled the pins from her hair, and the lazy curls spilled over her shoulders. “Maybe I’ll give everyone Sunday off, and we can spend the whole day without clothes.”
She licked his nipples and felt him quiver. “I like to sit out on the patio, so I’d at least have to wrap myself in a towel.”
“That would work as long as no one in the water screamed for help.” He rolled her top off over her head and unfastened her bra. “Your breasts fit perfectly in my palms.” He rubbed his thumbs over her nipples with a tender stroke. They were already perfect buds, and he leaned down to kiss them.
She swayed into his magical touch, and he turned his hand to brush her breasts gently with his knuckles. The soft bumps gave her a new thrill. “Maybe I won’t go out on the patio.” She combed his hair through her fingers. “Someone else can play lifeguard.”
“We could sit out there Sunday night after dark.”
She giggled at the thought and unbuttoned his shorts. “We could do that tonight after everyone’s gone home.”
“That would mean another trip up and down the stairs, and I’d rather use my energy elsewhere.”
“Wise choice.” She eased down his shorts, lowered her hands to his butt, snuggled against him and gave him long, slow kisses. After a step back, she cupped his balls, lightly traced her name with a fingertip and wished she could write it with permanent ink. His cock filled both hands, and she stroked him firmly, then fluttered her fingers up and down his length. “You feel full of energy right here.”
He grabbed her waist to pull her against his chest. “I’ll bet you’re the most popular girl in your sorority.”
“Are you calling me a slut?” she teased playfully.
“No, I just meant…”
“I understand it was a compliment, but I don’t lavish affection on every man I meet.”
He rocked back against the door. “I’m grateful you’re lavishing it on me.”
Intending to keep him grateful, she rose up to lick his lips lightly with the tip of her tongue. “Grab on to both poles so I won’t overwhelm you.”
“I don’t overwhelm easily.”
“We’ll see.” When he had both hands firmly anchored, she spread a luscious trail of kisses from his shoulders, across his nipples and down his flat abs. She was still wearing her skirt and brushed the hem lightly over his navel and lower. “Isn’t this nice?”
He bumped his head against the door. “Better than nice.”
She knelt to kiss his cock. “This is all I want up.” She flicked her tongue over the sensitive underside of the smooth rounded tip, tasted a salty drop and sat back. “Did you remember condoms?”
“I’ve been putting them in my pockets every time I get dressed. I’ll be ready when you are.”
She brushed her curls over his crotch, sucked him deep, and, had anyone else been upstairs, they would have heard his deep-throated moan. His heady cologne played with her senses just as her affectionate kiss played with his. The enticing darkness made every caress a double thrill. When he grabbed her shoulders to pull he
r to her feet, she relaxed against him to align her body to his. He handed her a condom, and she tore the wrapper.
“Hurry up,” he begged.
With a lazy caress, she slipped the condom down his length. She stopped to kiss him deeply, pulled her skirt out of the way and wrapped her leg around his waist.
He didn’t lift his mouth from hers as he guided himself into her and surged deep. He pulled back slowly and then dived into her again. He held her tightly in his arms, barely moving for a long, deep ride. He eased a hand between them to find her clit and pulsed against her in time with his strokes.
She had one hand around his neck and the other in his thick hair to hang on. His taste and smell, his every move lifted her higher and higher. She brushed her nipples across his broad chest to satisfy a delicious longing. The feeling was a surprise she’d never have discovered without his insistence she had a desirable figure all on her own. The man was a wonder in so many ways, and her whole body sang with his until filled to overflowing she shattered into whirling, sparkling bits. Her core clenched through his last hurried push, and she bit her lip rather than attack his shoulder. It may have all been instinct, but they blended pleasure so well together, she never wanted to let him go.
When he could draw a deep breath, he sighed against her hair. “It’s never been this good for me.”
“Hmm, not for me either. You’re perfect.”
“You too.” He slid his fingers through her hair and brought a curl to his lips. “I could have a slot cut into the door so Tomas could send in our meals.”
“Tempting, but a shower would be nice occasionally.”
He pulled out and yanked off the condom. “I guess we’re better off sleeping in my room.”
“I adore practical men.”
“So it isn’t just my cock?”
“No, not at all, although you’re very good with it, but you have a lot to work with.”
“Thank you. I wish I had the strength to walk, but it may be a while before I can hang on to my crutches.”
She relaxed her hold on him. “This is nice too. I’m sorry you missed therapy today, but we’ve kept your blood flowing.”
“We’ve definitely done that.” He reached down to pull up his shorts, and she buttoned them.
She shivered as a sudden chill shot down her spine. Someone walking on your grave. He thought the police and his attorney would handle everything now, but she felt with a frightening certainty the danger wasn’t past.
Chapter Eighteen
The next morning, Libby stood on the balcony in her lavender negligee. She brushed her hair and let the breeze ruffle her curls. Santos startled her when he spoke.
He’d propped his head on his elbow. “Are you thinking of going out for a run?”
Expecting trouble, she’d been watching the deserted beach, wondering who’d be the first to appear. She turned and smiled. “Weren’t you going to hire a bodyguard so I could?”
“I thought about it, but with Cazares and Nuñez coming by so often, another man would have just been in the way. Run if you like, but go toward the beach shops rather than the Ramirez house.”
She still thought someone should search Fermin Ramirez’s boat, but he’d struck her as being too clever a man to leave a rifle on board, if it had ever been there. “If I’m going to run, I need to go now so I’ll be ready when Maggie comes by.”
“Or you could come back to bed.” Santos raised the covers to provide a very handsome lure.
“Very tempting, but I don’t want you to be too worn out for therapy,” she teased on her way to the door. “I’ll see you later.”
Once in the hall, she rested her head against his door. He’d cautioned her against going in the Ramirez’s direction, but he hadn’t made it an emphatic order as he was prone to do. She tapped lightly on the door and looked in. “Please be careful today.”
He sat up. “I won’t trip over anything or fall down a well or let Manuel drive on the wrong side of the road. I’ll meet you and Maggie here for lunch about one. You could at least kiss me good-bye.”
He had such a knockout grin, she came back into his room but left the door open. “One kiss is never enough for me.”
He opened his arms. “We’ll make one kiss last.”
She knew he would and turned back to lock the door.
She eventually pried herself from his bed to run, and set a near-blistering pace along the shore. She turned when she reached the shops and jogged back to the house with a slow, easy rhythm. There were others out running that morning. None looked familiar, but she couldn’t shake the nagging anxiety they’d only entered a tiny window of peace. She arrived at the house just as Manuel began to back the SUV down the driveway, and she hurried around to the front of the house to tell Santos good-bye.
He laughed when he saw her. “Miss me already?”
A dozen smart answers came to mind, but she told him the truth. “Yes. I wanted to see you before you left.”
He frowned slightly. “I really need to go.”
She caressed his cheek, and he kissed her palm. “Just be careful.”
He raised his hand. “I promise.”
Manuel held the door open for him, but as he turned to get in, Libby saw a girl jogging their way. It struck her as odd she’d be running along the street rather than on the beach. The runner was dressed in white shorts and tank top with a cap pulled low to shade her face and hide her hair, but Libby recognized her. “Wait!” She grabbed Santos’s elbow as Victoria left the street and sprinted toward them. She carried a plastic water bottle and tossed the cap aside as she drew near.
Libby watched Santos swing the padded end of a crutch hard to flip the bottle out of Victoria’s grasp. Knocked off her feet, she shrieked as the bottle’s fuming liquid splashed her legs. Her cap flew off and her long hair veiled her face but couldn’t muffle her anguished screams. Swaying from fright, Libby grabbed hold of Santos. His lightning reflexes had saved them, but what if she hadn’t been there to warn him?
Manuel ran for the front garden hose, turned the spout on full blast and sprayed Victoria’s legs with a cold stream, but she kept writhing in agony on the grass.
Santos kept Libby close as he pulled his phone from his pocket. “Nuñez should be expecting my daily call.” In addition to the police, he asked for an ambulance.
Hearing the screams, Mrs. Lopez came to the front door, followed by the maids. Tomas pushed in behind her with Julian and Adolfo. Santos called, “Julian, run down to the house with the big aqua windows and bring Mr. Ramirez here fast.” Julian immediately sprinted away.
Libby couldn’t tell if Santos were shaking as badly as she was, but she could feel his heart thudding rapidly in his chest, and he leaned against the car for support. “She meant to spray us with acid,” she murmured, her voice trembling.
“I was her target,” he said. “You were just in the wrong place, but if you hadn’t seen her…”
“I know.” In her view, she’d been right where she was meant to be, but she was chilled to the bone by how close they’d come to the absolute horror of acid burns.
Fermin Ramirez came running toward them, his tie waving from his hand and a man in a chauffeur’s uniform following close behind. “My God, what happened?”
Santos quickly explained. “An ambulance is on the way and the police. There are witnesses this time, and I don’t care how eloquent a defense you give Victoria, she’s not going to get away with this.”
Fermin watched as Manuel continued to spray Victoria’s legs. “I should never have told her you intended to sue for custody of her son. This is all my fault.”
Libby’s eyes filled with disbelief as she looked up at Santos. “Is he serious? She’s the one who carried the acid.”
Luis Rubio circled his daughter, calling her name, but she was crying too hard to hear him. “Where’s the ambulance!” he yelled.
Nausea filled Libby’s throat and she had to swallow hard. She could hear the sirens approaching, but ke
pt her eye on the plastic bottle on the glass. “Don’t let her father take the bottle.”
“I won’t,” Santos assured her. “It’s evidence as well as her burns.”
The ambulance had just taken Victoria away with her father when Detective Nuñez arrived. He ran a weary hand thought his wiry hair. “I must consider moving my office here to your home. It would save me time in commuting each day. The dispatcher mentioned acid. What’s happened here now?”
Santos hadn’t budged from the car and still held Libby in his arms. Fermin Ramirez was seated on the porch steps, knotting his tie in his hands. He’d told his wife to keep the baby at home, but he was beside himself and muttering under his breath.
“Have you met Fermin Ramirez?” Santos asked. “He’s a well-regarded defense attorney, or at least he was until quite recently.” He described Victoria’s attack and answered the detective’s questions. “I’d offer coffee, but I’m not certain I’m steady enough to drink any myself.”
“There’s no need for refreshments, Mr. Aragon. We’ll take the bottle to the lab to identify what was used, and Miss Rubio will remain in jail when she’s discharged from the hospital. As for her son…”
Fermin gave a faint wave. “We’ll keep him. His grandfather is my chauffeur, and he lives with us. There’s no need to disrupt a small boy’s life.”
Nuñez nodded. “If the grandfather wasn’t involved, that will work. If he was, other arrangements will have to be made.”
“I’m sure he wasn’t,” Fermin insisted. “He’s been as confused as my wife and I by all this. I collect classic cars, and Luis sometimes uses hydrochloric acid to clean parts. He wouldn’t have given any to Victoria, but she would have known it was in the garage.” He struggled to his feet. “If you don’t need anything more from me, I’d like to go home.”
“Fine. I’ll be there soon to inspect your garage,” Nuñez said.
Fermin nodded. “I’m staying home from my office today. Come whenever you like.” He walked slowly toward his house, dragging the end of his expensive-looking silk tie along the ground.
